


Easy Like Sunday Morning

by sweetbutterbliss



Series: Wild One [4]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Miscommunication, Scheming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1460602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetbutterbliss/pseuds/sweetbutterbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunday was their day.  It was a hard and fast rule, they weren't allowed to have plans except with each other.  Those plans usually involved some sort of quick morning fuck, lazily rolling their hips against each other and avoiding kisses because Arthur hated his morning breath.  Then a shower, sometimes together and sometimes not. They'd have breakfast (<i>it's brunch if it's after ten, Eames</i>) at the café down the street from their apartment, and linger whilst Arthur downed impressive amounts of coffee and Eames ate his weight in hand-rolled pastries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy Like Sunday Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ryn11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryn11/gifts).



> beta'd by [ Heather ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HTH31/pseuds/HTH31) on her phone, in a club while being mean to creepy dudes. Cause she's the best.
> 
> This is a gift to Ryn because we made her sad. Sorry bb. Hope this helps.

Sunday was their day. It was a hard and fast rule, they weren't allowed to have plans except with each other. Those plans usually involved some sort of quick morning fuck, lazily rolling their hips against each other and avoiding kisses because Arthur hated his morning breath. Then a shower, sometimes together and sometimes not. They'd have breakfast ( _it's brunch if it's after ten, Eames_ ) at the café down the street from their apartment, and linger whilst Arthur downed impressive amounts of coffee and Eames ate his weight in hand-rolled pastries.

That morning Eames had spent longer than usual in the bathroom hunting down grays in his hair. No matter how often Arthur told him he thought the threads of white in his beard were sexy, Eames still hated feeling old when he caught a glimpse of one. _You're not old, Eames. For the millionth time_ Arthur would tut and tug on his beard for a kiss. After brushing his teeth, of course.

Arthur was haphazardly reading the paper, going from the style section to the finance seemingly without any kind of pattern, unaware of Eames watching him. Or maybe aware, but so used to it now that it was status quo.

"You do my head in, Arthur," He groaned, tearing off a piece danish and chewing angrily.

Arthur looked up and dimpled at Eames, raising a questioning eyebrow. Eames waved his hands up and down at Arthur in reply whilst he chewed and swallowed.

"You still look bloody sixteen. And I look like a dirty old man having breakfast...brunch...with a teenager."

Arthur laughed and leaned closer until he could rest his head on Eames' shoulder.

"Do you want to give me some candy, Daddy?" Arthur blinked long and slow, gazing innocently up at Eames.

"Oh shut it," Eames shoved Arthur off and crossed his arms, pouting like a little boy.

Arthur laughed easily, folding his paper in a perfect three fold and resting it on the table.

"Eames?" He asked teasingly.

"No. I'm not speaking to you. You are horrid and I hate you."

"Aw, babe. I'm sorry," Arthur was still grinning though, his elbows on the table as he leaned forward.

"No. You're not."

"You're right, I'm not. I don't think you look old, Eames. You're being silly."

Eames didn't respond, picking at his breakfast, his expression surly.

"Eames," Arthur's voice was deeper and when Eames looked up, his pupils were wide and he was biting his lip. "Why don't we go home and I can prove to you how young you still are?"

Eames stood so quickly that his chair screeched back and he tripped over himself trying to throw money on the table. He grabbed Arthur by the arm and all but dragged him down the sidewalk toward home.

"Oh, Eames. I think they must have thought I was a bad boy and you were talking me home to spank me," Arthur laughed to himself as Eames growled at him.

"You probably deserve it, you cheeky bugger."

Arthur just laughed and leaned up to kiss Eames on the cheek, tucking himself up against Eames' side, and looping his arm around him.

***

They'd just gotten in the door when Eames hauled Arthur up and over his shoulder, one hand across the back of his legs and almost sprinted to the bedroom. He didn't matter how often they had sex or how long they'd been together, Eames still got hard at just the thought of being inside Arthur.

Arthur laughed and beat ineffectual fists against Eames' back. He gave up and started groping Eames' ass through his jeans and wiggling so Eames had to grip him harder to stop him from falling. He dropped him without warning onto their bed and Arthur grinned, bouncing a few times.

"Yeah, such an old man. Yet you can manhandle me so easily. Soooo old."

"If you don't shut up, I'm going to refuse to have sex with you, Arthur." Eames pushed and pulled at Arthur until he was in the center of the bed.

"Yeah right. Just try it," Arthur rolled his hips, meeting Eames' own erection; both gasping from the friction.

Eames growled and captured Arthur's mouth with his own, licking into the familiar taste and biting gently at his lips. He felt the vibrations of Arthur's groans as he shoved Arthur's dress shirt up and out of his pants. He leaned back on his heels and reached behind him to pull his own t-shirt off, ruffling his hair and grinning down at Arthur who already looked beyond debauched; his face all red from beard burn and his usually neat hair standing up in tufts.

"Off," Eames growled, tugging at Arthur's shirt and yanking at his belt. Eames got him unzipped and divested of his trousers and pants before Arthur was even halfway done with the stupid fiddly buttons.

"Honestly, Arthur. We need to get you some easy access sex clothes." 

"What are you even talking about?" Arthur finally stripped his shirt off and threw it over the side of the bed. "You're still wearing pants. Come on old man. Get busy," Arthur smirked. Eames scowled back at him, twisting his mouth to the side as he stood and pushed his jeans down.

"You really know how to make a man feel good about himself. You're such a cock," Eames leaned all his weight on Arthur and held his face in his hands.

Arthur arched up as much as he could, pushing his erection against Eames' hip. "Eames...I think you're amazing, stop being such a baby and fuck me."

Eames was about to say something else but Arthur clamped his mouth onto his neck, biting down and laving over the mark. Arthur squeezed Eames' biceps and in a sneak attack had Eames flat on his back; Arthur straddling his hips and sitting up on his knees to reach the lube on the dresser.

He thought about making another old man joke until it died in his throat as Arthur slicked his own fingers up and raised up on his knees bringing his hand behind him. Eames settled for reaching out and petting down Arthur's side, feeling his ribs as they bellowed in and out. His hand worked faster and Eames could hear the filthy, wet sound of the lube and Arthur's long fingers buggering himself.

Eames let out a moan and reached for Arthur's cock; red and leaking bobbing with his shuddering movements. He wrapped a hand around the base, squeezing and pulling up in one long stroke, not too hard since the skin was still dry. Arthur still threw his head back, moaning and panting at the sensation.

"Okay, okay. Stop, Eames, you're going to make me come."

"I rather thought that was the point," Eames refused to let go, using his other hand to reach back and push one of his own fingers in next to Arthur's two. He pushed in while Arthur spread his own fingers, stretching them out. Arthur let him for a minute, his mouth open, breathing heavily through his nose.

"Stop, stop, stop," Arthur removed his own fingers and tugged Eames' back out of the way by his wrist. "I want to come with you inside me."

"Oh love, you can't say things like that if you want me to last," Eames groaned, covering his eyes with his clean hand. 

He lowered it when he felt Arthur gripping his cock and angling it before pushing down on it. Arthur's eyes stayed closed and he had a death grip on his lip between his teeth, making quiet, whimpering noises as he slid achingly slowly down Eames' cock. Eames was positive that Arthur wasn't even aware that he was making any noise at all. Eames slid his hands up to grip Arthur's hips, loving how his big hands fit perfectly around them, a thumb in the front hollows and his fingers splayed across Arthur's back, right above the delicious curve of his arse.

Arthur inhaled deeply as he bottomed out, resting his hands on Eames' wrists and stilled.

"Alright then, love?"

Arthur nodded and opened his eyes; all dilated pupil framed by his red cheeks, as he smiled down at Eames and rocked his hips, swiveling them in tiny circles and tilting his pelvis back and forth. Eames panted, his stomach trembling from the urge to hold Arthur still and just fuck up into the tight heat. He gripped Arthur's hips so hard his hands started to hurt, so he relaxed them marginally. Arthur liked to see the bruises, but Eames always felt vaguely guilty about it and tried to kiss it better afterwards.

"Okay. Okay, Eames. Ready. Eames..." It was mostly babble, but Eames spoke 'Arthur' and knew exactly what he wanted.

He braced his feet on the mattress and slid one hand around to splay across the sway of Arthur's lower back, lifting his hips and slowly pulling his cock out while Arthur wobbled on his knees.

"Eames, Eames..." He just kept repeating until Eames slammed back into him, setting a fast, almost brutal pace. He felt his balls slapping up to meet Arthur's ass as Arthur kept up his chant of Eames' name until it dissolved into nothing but keening and moaning. Eames groaned loudly, breathing heavily; his hands slipping across Arthur's sweat slicked skin.

"Do you need..." He tried to get the words out but Arthur dropped down to meet him on the upward thrust and Eames just couldn't talk anymore, but Arthur also spoke Eames...even sex addled Eames.

"No...nope. Just want...you...this...want to come like this," Arthur illustrated his point by leaning forward to give Eames more room to maneuver and thrust up.

"Alright, poppet," Eames slowed down and moved his hands to run down Arthur's slick skin, brushing Arthur's curls out of his face as they kissed and panted into each other's mouths.

Eames held Arthur still against him, one hand curled around the back of his neck, the other pulling one of his thighs up and began a slow, pounding rhythm. He pulled out inch by inch and then slammed his cock back in; Arthur jerking forward with the force and letting out strangled moans into Eames' skin.

Eames didn't feel old one bit as he fucked his darling with all the energy and stamina he could muster. He didn't want it to end, but he felt his balls tightening and heat rising in his stomach, so he slowed down a bit, grinding into Arthur and circling his hips.

"I want to be like this forever, Arthur. Will you marry me?" He managed to gasp out, just as Arthur let out a shocked moan and came all over Eames' stomach. The clenching of Arthur's hole around him made Eames lose it, tumbling after him into orgasm. They lay in a sticky, sweaty heap as Eames brushed Arthur's sweaty curls back off his face; kissing once, twice before Arthur wiggled out of Eames' embrace.

Eames was a filthy perv who would happily sleep with Arthur's come crusted to his stomach, but Arthur can't stand it and usually insisted on a shower, or at least a damp cloth. Eames tightened his arms, not allowing Arthur to move.

"Eames, lemme go," Arthur muttered, but didn't actually make any attempt to move.

Eames kissed the top of his head and opened his arms, allowing Arthur to slip away. Arthur didn't move right away, just snuggled closer, biting gently at Eames' shoulder before rolling out of the bed and padding toward the bathroom. Eames took the opportunity to stretch and starfish out onto the bed.

"Eames?"

"Mmm?" Eames didn't bother to open his eyes.

"I just...you know...I'm not going to hold you to anything you say during orgasm. So...umm...don't worry about it. Okay?"

Eames' eyes snapped open, but before he could reply Arthur was already shutting the door to the bathroom and turning on the shower.

***

Arthur didn't need marriage. He didn't need a piece of paper, or even a ring, to prove that Eames loved him, or that they'd be together forever. Looking at the rate of divorce, a marriage might even make things worse. And he didn't need a big, fancy party to let everyone else know that he and Eames loved each other. Maybe just the courthouse, in bespoke suits, Mal and Dom, Ari and Yusuf waiting for them in the uncomfortable folding chairs. That would be fine. But, no...he didn't need that either. He didn't.

"Ma petite choux, where is your head today?" Mal's voice filtered through Arthur's denial.

"Mal, why did you and Dom get married?" Arthur asked, slumping back in his chair; not even pretending like he was looking at blueprints anymore.

"Well, of course, because we loved each other," Mal smiled gently. "Why?"

"No, but you didn't need a marriage to know that. You just have to look at the two of you to know that. Why the marriage?"

Mal shrugged. "I just wanted a party. You know me,"

Arthur fixed her with a stare until she laughed.

"Is this about you and your Eames?"

Arthur nodded, dropping his face into his hands and sighing.

"He proposed," Arthur mumbled between his hands.

"But that's wonderful!" Mal clapped her hands together and beamed at Arthur.

"He asked during sex."

"Oh...well, that's not as romantic as one would hope," Mal's enthusiasm visibly dampened.

"And I told him I wouldn't hold him to anything he said while...you know. And he hasn't mentioned it since."

"Oh, you poor little dear," Mal came around the desk and squatted next to Arthur's chair. She patted his shoulder, making him put his hands back down.

"It's not that I need a wedding or anything. I just..."

"You did not know it was something you desired until it was offered?"

"Yes...no. I don't want it, Mal. I'm fine."

"Oh, my love. Maybe you should talk to your Eames about this?" She hummed sadly.

"No. I don't want to force him into anything. It's fine. We're fine, great, in fact. Don't worry about it, I'll get over it," He waved her away and pulled his chair back to his desk, forcing himself to focus on the project in front of him. "I know this is for Saito, but he does know this is impossible, right?"

Mal went along with his very obvious charade and nodded.

"Dom has done it before. A room within a room. My issue is with the carpet he has requested."

***

Eames knew something was wrong. He'd made it a point to know Arthur, not just how he takes his coffee (black with two splendas) or how he likes his eggs (over easy on top of toast) but all that he is. When he's sad, his mouth turns down and when he's angry, his darling ears turn red; and right now...he's moping. All forced smiles and furrowed eyebrows.

Eames wasn't stupid, he knew full well what the issue was; that damn proposal. What a complete knob he was. Who proposed during sex? During a bloody orgasm?! 

Also he was kind of offended that Arthur so easily dismissed it, he'd thought they were past that shit. The shit where Arthur thought he didn't deserve good things. And really, being Mr. Eames would be the best thing, even if he did say so himself. They'd obviously have to take his last name, cause it was what people called him. What else would he do? Or they could be feminists and just keep their own names. He was utterly lost in thought while his agent narrated on about bookings and galleries.

He noticed a familiar face hovering in front of the gallery and cut his agent off with a brief goodbye, mostly just hanging up on her. He was lucky Allison was such a sweetheart and thought he was amusing, not an asshole. Or a least an amusing asshole, anyway.

"Ari! Love," He grabbed her hands and kissed each cheek; which Ari let him do, because she wasn't an uncultured American. 

"Hi, Eames. I'm famished and you need to take me to lunch," She ran her hand over the curve of her belly and smiled at it fondly.

"Ah well, you are eating for two after all. What's the sprog craving today?" He steered her out of the door, calling a _'be back later'_ to his employees. He hired them so he didn't have to run the gallery himself, so he knew they were more than competent at dealing with things without him. Actually, they were probably grateful to see him go, he tended to mess stuff up; poking at papers and replying rudely to client emails.

"Ice cream. It wants so much ice cream," Ari decided.

"Right. But how about we eat some proper food first?"

"Fine," Ari frowned but acquiesced.

Ari had accepted the Cobbs' offer to work for them, and Yusuf was happily mixing chemicals and blowing things up at Columbia. Arthur loved having his best friend just a subway ride away, and Eames and Ari had grown closer over the years. They had lunch dates and Eames always insisted that he was going to steal Ari away from his old friend, ungrateful Yusuf.

"I need your help, dear Ariadne," Eames attempted to hide the horrified expression at the way Ari was putting food away. He hadn't dared reach for the bread basket for fear of losing a hand.

"Of course you do. With what?" She mumbled around a mouthful of pasta.

After Eames had outlined his plan and handed over the rest of his chicken parm to the ravenous beast without protest, Ari sat back with her hands resting across her tummy and grinned.

"We're going to need Mal's help."

Eames nodded, grateful that he had such brilliant, sneaky friends.

***

"Except that I don't want to go," Arthur scowled at Mal and Ari over his desk.

"Nobody asked you. We're kidnapping you," Mal was unfazed by angry Arthur, and always has been.

"Also, this might be my last real girl's night until the baby comes," Ari tried for innocent and pathetic. Arthur didn't fall for it, just knitted his eyebrows further together.

"Has it escaped either of your notice that I am _not_ a girl. Not even close. I am a gay man. MAN! Not your pseudo girlfriend. This is not a romantic comedy, I am _not_ your sassy gay sidekick."

"Well, of course not, if that's what we wanted we'd have invited Eames. You are far too grumpy," Mal sniffed, examining her nails.

"Speaking of, I can't just go out of town without clearing it with him."

"Oh, I already talked to him. He packed you a bag. It's waiting in my car downstairs. And he said _'Have fun, love. Call when you arrive.'_ "

"Oh my god, Ari. What have I told you about your fake English accent. It's forbidden," Arthur groaned.

"Look. Your boss," Mal pointed at herself, "your very pregnant best friend, and your loving boyfriend have conspired to take you away for two days, mon choux. We will not be dissuaded, so get up and let us go."

Arthur threw his pen on the desk, knowing he wasn't going to win this one.

"Fine...but just 'cause you can't drink doesn't mean I can't. There'd better be alcohol."

The two women cheered and hauled him up out of his chair, one on each side, and frogmarched him out of the office, talking excitedly about the spa they'd booked. By the time they were on the road, Arthur was starting to feel relaxed and was maybe even smiling a little. But he'd probably deny it if anyone asked.

***

Arthur had been a little concerned about what Eames had packed for him, imagining pink shirts and tweed shorts; all kinds of hideous concoctions. But his heart had given a little twist when he'd opened his bag and found his own designer jeans and a few neatly packed button ups. He'd also found a note with Eames familiar scrawl - 

_Waistcoats and ties aren't allowed, darling. Relax and I'll see you soon. P.S. I packed lube for when you miss me._

Arthur snorted and dug out the little travel sized, flavored lube and took a few minutes to "miss" Eames before changing and meeting the girls. It was fast and messy, but he felt ten times better; Eames was always able to predict what Arthur needed before Arthur even thought of it.

He texted Eames. _What am I supposed to do with flavored lube by myself?_

He didn't receive a reply, which wasn't all that strange; when Eames was painting he'd hit a stride and be oblivious to the outside world until it was done. Arthur shrugged and made his way to the first floor, showered and definitely smiling easier.

***

After the fourth, maybe fifth, giant strawberry margarita he'd downed, Arthur was feeling a bit morose. Morose, drunk, and suffering with an ice headache. 

"Maybe _you_ should ask _him_?" Ari squeezed the back of his neck and ruffled his hair.

"I could do that," Arthur perked up and then slumped back down immediately. "But I kind of like the idea of him doing it. I know that's dumb, but I can't help it."

Ari and Mal exchanged glances over Arthur's head which Arthur would normally classify as a little smirky. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but that made him dizzy, so he stopped. 

"You two. Should have never introduced you...it's dangerous," he slumped over, resting his forehead on his folded arms.

"Dangerous? Why?" Mal laughed merrily.

"Because...you...two of you...run the world. Destroy it. Whatever. Schemes," Arthur tried to make sense of his own thoughts.

"Right. Well my dear Arthur, I think we are cutting you off."

"Here, you can have some of my virgin one," Ari angled the straw toward him.

"I don't want virgin, I want Eames," Arthur muttered grumpily.

"Whatever that means," Ari mumbled around a mouthful of breadstick.

"I think I need to lie down," Arthur pushed his chair back but didn't stand. He waited for the ground to steady itself before he attempted to walk on it.

"Um...wait...no, you have to stay. We haven't eaten yet!" Ari almost squeaked. She sounded panicked, casting Mal harried glances.

"Yes. You cannot go to bed with only terrible frozen drinks in your system."

"Fine," Arthur snatched a breadstick and shoved half of it in his mouth, chewing silently; glaring at his two dangerous friends. He waved the rest of it at them. "Schemes! I know it!" He wobbled to his feet and began slowly shuffling toward the elevators chewing on his breadstick, mumbling drunkenly to himself.

***

Eames cursed under his breath when he heard someone fumbling with the door lock. He huffed a sigh and pushed all the candles back into his carry on, stuffing the matches into his pocket. He swung the door open and was greeted with Arthur blinking confusedly down at his hands where the key card was still gripped tightly. 

"Darling, you're thoroughly smashed aren't you?" 

"Eames!" Arthur's confused expression melted into a brilliant smile, dimples and all. He looked radiant and Eames couldn't stop himself from grabbing him up and kissing him soundly.

"Wait. Why are you here?" Arthur beamed up at him, wrapping his arms around Eames' neck.

Eames was quiet and searching; he can't go with his plan tonight, Arthur was much too drunk. He might not even remember it in the morning, so he shrugged and hauled Arthur over to the bed, dropping him with a bounce.

"Just missed you, poppet," he removed Arthur's shoes and manhandled him back against the pillows.

"Thank you for packing. And for lube! Flavored lube!" Arthur let out a giggle and pulled Eames down on top of him. "We could use it now," Arthur rolled his hips a little and Eames grinned.

"I think we should save it for the morning. You look like you need a good, long kip. Also, I'm not that keen to get thrown up on during sex."

"I would never!" Arthur's face was aghast, and all of a sudden he looked just like the boy Eames met years ago in an alley. He buried his face in Arthur's neck, wrapping an arm around his small waist and pulling him half on top of himself.

"I just want to hold you. Is that too much to ask?" Eames mumbled into Arthur's skin.

He felt Arthur nod and relax, his long limbs losing all their tension as his breathing began to even out. Eames could feel his own eyes slipping closed before he heard Arthur whisper.

"Eames. The room's spinning."

Eames huffed a laugh and gently turned Arthur over on his side. 

"Close your eyes, it might help. Try and throw up on that side of the bed if you please."

He didn't get a response, so he toed his own shoes off and curled into Arthur, tucking him back against his chest and looping an arm around his waist again.

***

"Why do you look so glum? I'm the one with the unfortunate hangover. From strawberry margaritas. How embarrassing," Arthur gingerly sipped his coffee and watched Eames over the rim of his mug.

"I'm alright, darling. I just..." he frowned and fumbled for something in his pocket.

Arthur was rendered absolutely speechless as Eames hauled himself out of the chair and down on one knee next to Arthur's. The rest of the dining room turned their heads to look at them and gaped at Eames' display.

"Arthur...you're everything I've ever wanted. I don't want to be without you ever again, " he shifted a little, uncomfortable once he noticed he had an audience. He cleared his throat. "Look, I know it's a bit daft, but I think we're meant to be together, I've always thought that. We found each other twice, and I don't intend to let you go a second time. I want to spend every second of the rest of my life with you, my love."

He held out a robin egg blue box with a familiar logo etched across the top. Arthur brought his hands up to his mouth, unable to stop them from trembling. The ring was simple and beautiful, exactly the thing Arthur would have chosen for himself. 

"I know I cocked this up before, and I had big plans to make it right. But I just can't wait any longer. Arthur, will you marry me?"

Arthur gaped for a moment. He had bed head, and coffee breath, and a still raging hangover headache; he'd remember this moment for the rest of his life as ecstatically happy but also being vaguely nauseous. He let out a strangled laugh and slid out of his own chair until he was kneeling in front of Eames. He grabbed his face and kissed him, trying to pour all the love and contentment he had in his own body back into Eames'.

"So, is that a yes?" Eames grinned, completely dazed.

"Yes. Of course. Absolutely," he let Eames slip the ring on his finger; which fit perfectly of course. He buried his face in Eames' chest when the room interrupted them with applause, then stood and hauled Eames up after him.

"Come on, wouldn't want you to hurt your old man knees."

He noticed Mal and Ari, cameras in hand and rushed to hug them both.

"I knew it. Schemes!!" he kissed them both fondly. "I love you both, but I have to go."

He dragged Eames up to their room, tripping over his feet a bit as he admired the ring whilst walking.

Lying in bed afterwards, sweaty and sticky, both of them unable to contain their smiles; Arthur held his hand up, the heavy weight of the ring still an unfamiliar novelty.

"I cannot _believe_ you used the word "cocked" during your proposal."

"Oh darling, of course you believe it. Besides, it's us. Nothing could ever be the way we planned it."

Arthur nodded.

"But, it still turns out just right. Perfect for us."

Eames kissed him and hugged him closer.

"I can't wait for more perfect cock ups with you."

"Eames, stop saying cock during romantic moments," Arthur grumbled. 

"I shan't."

The quiet between them remained for a moment.

"Cock," Eames whispered with a grin, and was rewarded with Arthur laughing and batting him in the face with his pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> My [ Tumblr. ](http://sweetbutterbliss.tumblr.com/)


End file.
